As he feared, his return journey across the two-mile stretch of water was accompanied by all the less engaging qualities of open sea as far as his stomach was concerned.
Far above his head, creaking cranes and pulleys elevated baskets of enormous dimensions up the piers, presumably containing building materials. This activity was accompanied by warning shouts and directions from the workmen who bravely crouched on frail platforms where wooden screens served as shields to protect them from vagaries of wind and weather. On the sandbanks the seals, which Vince had told him to look out for, had wisely disappeared.
The rain began as he stepped ashore and decided him to indulge in a more luxurious meal than could be found in the Old Steeple Dining Hall. In the Glamis Hotel, encouraged by a handsome fire and sofas waiting invitingly in the main reception room, he was able to ignore the gloomy prospect outdoors.
Summoned to the dining room, he had just taken two spoonfuls of excellent Scotch broth when the walls reverberated to the sound of gunfire. The other diners promptly left their places and surged to the windows.
'What on earth is going on?' he demanded. 'Have we been invaded?'
Had something disastrous overtaken that Auld Alliance between France and Scotland in the short while he had been absent from Edinburgh? And staring over the diners' shoulders, he wondered if war had broken out although there had been no alert at the Central Office from England's network of spies.
'-four-five-six-seven-'
He was aware of the diners chanting at each explosion.
'Eight. Eight!'
The magic word was greeted by a cheer and a hurrah.
Seeing his solemn face one of the waiters said: 'Eight of them! Isn't that marvellous?'
'Eight of what?'
'Why sir, eight whales of course. That's the Excelsior—one of the whaling fleet just returned. The gunfire is the signal of how many whales they've caught.'
'Oh, is that all?' said Faro returning to his soup. What an extraordinary place this was.
'Frightened me out of my wits. Can you imagine anyone in Edinburgh getting excited if a whaling ship came up the Forth?' he said to Vince when they met in readiness for the visit to Deane Hall, by which time the shoreline was already crowded with an enthusiastic group of townsfolk.
Vince smiled. 'You get used to it. Although I'd better warn you there'll be no sleep for anyone tonight. The inns will be packed, doing a thriving business. All the ladies of the town will be out in full force. I understand they come by boat from all up and down the east coast when the fleet is expected.'
Vince paused and then added, 'Talking of whalers, I've been thinking about McGonagall's girl. Perhaps she went off with the fleet, they do occasionally take their fancy women aboard. Although it's supposed to be forbidden, the authorities are pleased to turn a blind eye.'
'Well, we should soon see whether your theory is correct, Vince. If she walks into the house in the next day or two. I shall look to you to keep me informed about the missing Kathleen as well as any other developments in the case.'
Vince laughed. 'My dear Stepfather, don't look so doleful.'
'Doleful?'
'Yes, you really are addicted to crime, aren't you?'
'Perhaps so, but I shall have to restrain myself this time, since this is out of my territory.'
'And do I detect that you wish it wasn't?' When Faro shrugged, Vince continued cheerfully: 'Never mind, you will be back in Dundee very soon, remember. And your next visit will be a happy and memorable one. For our wedding. There's a family chapel in the grounds and that's where Rachel wants the ceremony to take place. Since you are not my real father, I would like you to be best man.'
'I would be delighted, lad. But surely there is some friend of your own age?'
Vince shook his head firmly. 'No one I would rather have than my very best friend—and stepfather.'
Touched and flattered, Faro asked: 'Have you fixed a date?'
'Rachel wants it as soon as she comes of age officially. It's incredibly near now, just a few
weeks away.'
'No regrets or second thoughts, eh?'
'Not a single one, Stepfather. I am the happiest man in the whole world. Every day we are apart I find hard to bear. I want to be with her every moment. After our precious days and nights together, it is agonising that we should have to live apart again.'
The carriage swung round in the direction of Deane Hall. 'Especially with Rachel living away up here and me down in Paton's Lane,' he added. 'After all, we consider ourselves man and wife for we have exchanged the only vows that really matter.'
Looking out of the window, smiling shyly, he said softly: 'We are married, Stepfather, in every way but the legal formalities.'
As the carriage approached the lodge gates with their stone griffons Faro would have given a great deal to share in his stepson's happy confidence in a future that seemed to him fraught with problems.
The door opened promptly and the butler deigned to bow. 'Dr Laurie, sir. Mr Faro. Please come in. Miss Deane is expecting you.' Across the hall, he led the way to a handsome set of double doors. 'Would you please wait in the library while I announce you.'
Left alone with Vince, Faro whistled. 'What a room, what a place to sit and read in.' He did not number among his vices, envy of other men's possessions. But these extravagant surroundings fulfilled the requirements of his wildest dreams, his hopeless ambition to possess a well-stocked library.
Each wall was stacked from floor to ceiling with oak bookshelves containing behind their glass doors a collection of handsome leather-bound volumes. A log fire blazed cheerily in a stone fireplace and two steps led up to a magnificent bow window whose padded seat overlooked a sloping garden. Beyond were spread out the hills of Forfarshire.
Faro had little time to do more than glance at the book titles and discover that most were first editions and many signed by the authors. As he sighed over a volume of Heart of Midlothian by Sir Walter Scott—To Arnold Deane with the author's compliments'—footsteps on the hall's marble floor announced the returning butler.
'Miss Deane will see you now, gentlemen.'
They followed him through the richly carpeted hall where two wings of an intricately carved oak staircase climbed graciously upwards beneath a handsome stained-glass window depicting Scotland's heroes, William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, flourishing broadswords.
At their approach two maids and a footman melted discreetly into the woodwork and Faro whispered to Vince: 'One would think we were royalty.' Privately he thought that the highly publicised manners and customs of their dear Queen had much to answer for. This new and affluent upper middle class had shown great alacrity in adopting such snobberies.
The butler opened double doors into a drawing room which was the size of a ballroom, a function Vince later told him it had fulfilled on many great occasions in the past before Sir Arnold's illness. And of course, it would do so again. When Rachel and he were married, this was to be the magnificent setting for their wedding reception.
Faro guessed as they walked across the floor that this room must cover the entire first floor level of the house. Windows faced south and west, dazzling crystal chandeliers tinkled above their heads, heavy Aubusson carpets cushioned their feet.
A huge fireplace well-stocked with logs promised warmth to a girl who was dwarfed by the depths of the Carolean armchair and by the splendour of her surroundings.
She was smaller than Faro had imagined, her dark hair coiled on top of her head. And in the short time they were to be in her presence, Faro realised a deep sense of disappointment, and of revelation.
He had naturally expected that Vince would have chosen a beauty for his wife. His selection of young Edinburgh ladies had always indicated a preference for the loveliest of girls and only once, when he had been briefly infatuated with an older woman, the police surgeon's wife, had this preference faltered.
But this girl, who was to be his ultimate choice, was none of these. True, her hai
r was raven black and her eyes might well be violet but a screen behind the chair, presumably to keep her from draughts, also excluded any sun from the windows, sufficiently dimming the vast room's remaining light which might have served to accentuate her charms.
He looked quickly at Vince whose face was radiant with adoration. Well, well, beauty was indeed in the eye of the beholder, since his stepson's description had led him to expect a Helen of Troy or a Cleopatra, goddess extraordinary instead of mere girl ordinary in the extreme. To his untutored eye, she appeared rather plain.
In the brief moments before she spoke, Faro, who was used to making rapid assessments of personalities since much of his work and often his life depended on swift judgements, decided that she must have some unknown qualities apparent only to a lover, that transformed her into an irresistible paragon of sparkle and animation.
I must not be so uncharitable, so ungallant, he told himself sternly. I should be delighted, gratified, since it appears that Vince has taken to heart my advice that there was more to love and a life partner than a pretty face.
But his initial disappointment was soon quenched by more important factors.
As Vince went forward to greet his beloved, Faro had remained at a discreet distance, easy to achieve in that vast room. He stared out of the window, admiring the view and allowing the lovers a little time to themselves.
The girl's voice alerted him and turning he witnessed something stranger than the scene of sweet dalliance he had expected.
'I beg you to say no more, Dr Laurie. I can only presume that the urgency of your wish to see me concerns my grandfather's health. Pray be seated.'
Although the girl spoke softly her voice reached with a bell-like clarity to where he hovered waiting to be invited forward.
The words were either a joke or a bombshell. Faro looked across at Vince, who remained smiling tenderly down at the girl. A joke obviously, he thought with relief. A little game for lovers. She was pretending, teasing him. Well, well, was that the secret of her allure?
Still smiling, Faro moved nearer. But his presence had been forgotten.
Vince was no longer smiling. 'Rachel—dearest—for heaven's sake. What is all this about?'
Rachel Deane looked beyond Vince and saw Faro. 'Sir,' the appeal was directed at him. 'I received you both because Dr Laurie is my grandfather's physician. Indeed Sir Arnold thinks very highly of him. But when he knows how his trusted doctor has abused his role to press his unwelcome attentions in this manner - and invade my privacy, I think he may come to change his mind.'
Faro looked from one to the other in bewilderment. If this was a joke being staged for his benefit, then it was being played too hard and had gone too far for his taste.
He watched Vince spring forward and in an agitated manner attempt to seize Rachel's hands. He watched him sink on to his knees before her, saw her wrench her hands away, cowering far back in her chair.
'Sir—Mr Faro—please—be so kind as to remove this—this gentleman from my presence. Or must I call the servants.'
Faro went forward, put a restraining hand on Vince's arm. He noticed how it trembled.
'Vince, lad, what on earth has happened?' he whispered.
'I will answer that, sir,' said Rachel. This—this creature with whom you seem to have some acquaintance and influence, claims that I—that I am his betrothed, that we are to marry soon. This is preposterous, ridiculous. You have my word, sir, that although I have heard his name mentioned by my grandfather, I have never set eyes on him before in my whole life.'
Chapter 7
'Rachel, for God's sake. Is this some kind of joke? You know perfectly well that it was through Sir Arnold that we first met. Oh my dearest girl, you can't have forgotten that. You can't have forgotten Errol—' his voice dropped to a whisper—'the cottage where we stayed together.'
'The what? Are you mad? I never set foot in any cottage with you. Sir!' Again she appealed to Faro. 'You look respectable enough—can you not restrain this creature?'
'For God's sake, Rachel. Don't pretend not to have heard of him either. He is my stepfather, Detective Inspector Faro of Edinburgh City Police.'
Her eyes widened. The information seemed to take her by surprise, as indeed it must if she had never met Vince Laurie before.
'Then I presume you can vouch for this gentleman.'
Argument was futile. 'I can indeed, Miss Deane.'
She shrugged. 'At least I am not being confronted by a madman, for that was my first impression. But now I can see that he has been the victim of some wicked practical joke.'
'A joke you say. Is that all you can call it? All our—our days—our nights together.' Again Vince knelt before her, tried to seize her hands and was pushed away.
'Dearest girl, tell me the truth. Are the family forcing you to deny me, to deny that we are lovers? Is that what's the matter? Is it, is that all it is, my darling?'
Leaning forward he attempted to embrace her, but she half rose from her chair and seizing the bellpull tugged at it. The sound reverberated and the door opened with such alacrity that Faro could only conclude that the butler had been posted to listen outside.
'Please show these gentlemen out, Robson.'
'Yes, Miss Deane.'
'But Rachel—you can't—you can't do this to me.'
The butler had a firm grip on Vince's arm. It almost suggested that at one time he might have served with the police too. 'Come along, sir,' he said in the manner of one humouring a madman.
As Vince struggled, Robson gave Faro a helpless look. There was nothing he could do but bow briefly to Rachel Deane and follow his stepson from the room with as much dignity as was left to him.
At the foot of the stairs there was a short scuffle as Vince, recovering from that initial shock, made a valiant attempt to race back upstairs and confront Rachel. This time Faro showed no hesitation. He assisted the butler.
'Come along, lad.'
'But—but—' Bewildered, Vince was close to tears.
'There, there, lad.' The door opened rapidly, closed just as swiftly behind them. 'There, there. We'll think of something. Don't you worry.'
The Glamis Hotel was nearer than Paton's Lane, its surroundings soothing and impersonal, preferable to the bleak depressing bedroom and the risk of an encounter with the McGonagalls.
Faro thrust Vince up the steps. 'We wish to be private. Have you a room?' he asked at the desk.
'Across there, sir. We use it for private functions.'
'Excellent.' Following the bellboy, Faro propelled Vince into the room with its plush sofas and long table. The young man sat down meekly, still too dazed and numb for protest.
Faro ordered a bottle of whisky, much to the waiter's surprise. He clearly wasn't used to such generous orders.
'And two glasses.'
The waiter brought the order, his manner cautious and apprehensive as he stared at Vince, clearly wondering what these two gentlemen were up to. Were they in disagreement? Faro could see him nervously moving glasses and considering what was breakable in the room, as if anticipating an imminent bout of fisticuffs.
In any other circumstances he would have found it entertaining. And so would Vince. But neither had much heart left for amusement.
Faro poured out a generous measure. 'Drink it, lad. Go on. You'll feel better.'
Vince barely raised his head. 'Better? I never felt so vile in my whole life. I wish I was dead. She loves me. She is my wife-my wife, you understand. We have been lovers. And now-to deny it completely. To deny even knowing me. Oh dear God, what has come over her? She cannot be so cruel.'
He thumped his fist upon the table. 'What am I to do, Stepfather? How can I win her back? Tell me what to do, for God's sake—before I go mad.'
So saying he crashed down the whisky glass and began pacing back and forth to the window as if expecting some miracle in the shape of Rachel Deane to appear, his actions carefully watched by the nervous waiter who hovered by the private bar.
'Sit down, Vince. Sit down,' said Faro. 'I can do nothing to help you until we calmly consider all that has happened.'
'Calmly—how can I consider my broken heart, her cruel treatment calmly?'
'Because that is the way you have been taught to think, lad. It is the way you were reared, the way you have lived all your life with me,' said Faro sternly. If you are speaking truth—and I don't doubt that for a moment, then Miss Deane is lying. And if she is lying, then there has to be some reason. And we must find it.'
'She wouldn't lie. She is good and true—'
'Vince, listen to me. There is a mystery here and it has to be solved like any other mystery. And the sooner you calm yourself, the sooner we will find our answer.' Replenishing the glasses, he said: 'First of all, I want the evidence.'
'Evidence?'
'Indeed. I want you to tell me the whole story of your meeting with Miss Deane and what led to your further association. Rest assured I shall neither condemn nor condone but I beg you, leave nothing out.'
'It all began one day', said Vince, 'when Sir Arnold was visiting the factory. Before his illness he came at regular intervals to inspect the working conditions and showed a lively interest in the workers. If a man or a woman had problems, he was never too grand to sit down and discuss their difficulties with them. He was, and is, greatly loved, a fine man.
'One morning during his perambulations he collapsed. Fortunately I happened to be on hand, since my surgery and my patients' records were something he might wish to inspect. He made a note of all details of accidents and in the case of deaths would write a personal note, with a few guineas, to the dependants.
'I could see at once that he had suffered a mild stroke. I took the necessary steps to revive him and he was grateful, insisted I had saved his life and asked that I should continue to attend him, as his personal physician was an old man who, Sir Arnold said, should have retired years ago.
' "I like having young men with young ideas around me."
'We got along famously and it was on one of my weekly visits to Deane Hall that I first met Rachel. As I was leaving she rushed downstairs to the hall and thanked me for all I had done for her grandfather. On my next visit I found I had to attend her as a patient. She had slipped on the stair and sprained her ankle. It wasn't serious but I think it was at that moment we looked into each other's eyes and we both knew what was happening.
A Quiet Death (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.5) Page 6
